Blindspot
by LRRH17
Summary: She never sees him coming.


**A/N: Takes place in the imagined time between TDW and Ragnarok. Also, this contains very brief elements of the TV show "Blindspot," starring Jaimie Alexander, although I have never seen a full episode – all I use is what I've gleaned from commercials/trailers. Thanks for reading!**

The doors to the throne room burst open in the wake of the fury that is War. The king glares at her, a single eyebrow lifted in surprise – a gesture so unlike him – and she cannot believe she has been so blind for this long.

The recognition and contempt must be plain in her eyes, for he dismisses the guards with a simple wave of his hand. In that one gesture, she is forcibly reminded of just how much power he holds at his fingertips – unchecked, spectacular power that can lead them all to glory…or to absolute ruin.

He sighs, and he is transformed. She growls as the rush of battle fills her, leaping up the steps to the throne that is most certainly _not his._

"Sif," he says silkily, not even deigning to rise to his feet when her legs brush against his, and she towers over him, her sword once again grazing the pale skin of his throat.

"Loki," she snarls. "Give me one reason why I should not rid the realms of your traitorous heart once and for all."

His smirk falls away, leaving his eyes a cold, ice-blue as he slowly rises. In that moment, she realizes – not for the first time – that any trace of the prince she once loved is gone. He is beastly now in his ferocious power, terrifying and dark and everything that haunts her in her nightmares.

Why, then, does she refuse to back down?

Standing straighter, she keeps her gaze locked on his, fighting every conflicting instinct whirling through her brain: one screams _run_ ; another demands _battle_ ; and yet another whispers, in a voice much like his, _surrender_.

 _I will not. I_ _ **cannot**_ _._

As if he can read her every thought, he takes a step closer, a single spark of mischief dancing in his eyes as the action forces her to lower her blade so that she does not harm him.

 _At least, not yet._

The corner of her mouth tilts up in a smirk at the thought.

"I thought you would be overjoyed to know that your beloved was still alive, my dear, brave, ignorant Sif."

She grits her teeth, but remains silent. He simply clucks his tongue, beginning to tread a small circle around her. She keeps her blade against his skin, turning with him, never losing sight of his eyes. She has learned the hard way just what happens when she is foolish enough to turn her back on Mischief.

"Well…" he trails off, heaving a sigh of long-suffering. "I am truly sorry to say it, but I simply cannot have one of my most disloyal subjects knowing such a tremendous secret – especially one that would tear apart everything I have worked for these past few months." He sighs again in mock resignation, feigning regret. "You'll have to be punished, I'm afraid."

She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed and unintimidated. "You would kill me yourself?"

He laughs. " _Kill_ you? Never. That would be far too painless for my liking. I have something much more enjoyable in mind."

She lifts her head defiantly, hoping her feigned confidence seems as effortless as his sarcasm and arrogance, her thoughts whirling all the while. Those words cannot bode well for her. The last time he spoke in such a manner – back when she had asked him to allow his brother to return, and take his rightful place as king – the throne had been his then, too; but now, there isn't a soul left to stop his destruction. The queen is dead, the king is nowhere to be found, and one prince has given all of it up while the other has become a tyrant.

Taking a deep breath, she asks, "What did you have in mind, then?"

He grins, stopping his maddening circles around her and throwing his arms wide in mock invitation. "I propose a game."

She says nothing, not even bothering to conceal her suspicion. She knows that he will explain his twisted plans without her prodding; he enjoys all this far too much to remain silent for long.

"Remember who you are," he states simply, his eyes dark. "Remember Asgard. _Remember me._ "

The last command is nearly a plea, but the flash of desperation in his eyes is gone before she can think too much of it. He is the power-drunk usurper once more.

"Remember you?" she repeats, confused.

He only nods. "Find your way out of my puzzle, and I will forgive your betrayal."

She does not need clarification as to what he means by that. She has betrayed him only once in all her life, the day that she journeyed to Midgard against his wishes to bring back Thor. "Loki, I will not apologize for – "

He stops her abruptly with a wave of his hand. "Yes, yes, I know. That is exactly why I am proposing our game. It will also afford me the time I need to finalize my plans. Without you in the way, everything will run smoothly." He pauses, looking at her intently. "Do you agree, Sif?"

What can she say?

"I agree," she replies, resigned. "I will play your game."

He grins widely, stepping back with a flourish. "Then as king of Asgard and guardian of the nine realms, I, Loki Odinson, _cast you out._ "

Her eyes widen in fear as golden and emerald light streams from both his hands, and she is knocked backwards with such force that all the breath rushes out of her. She tries desperately to scream his name, to demand _why_ , to take back her agreement – but there is no voice left in her to shout. The last thing she sees before everything disappears in a cloud of darkness is his face, a manic smile set in place as he laughs.

()()()

When she wakes, she knows nothing.

Ink stains nearly every inch of her skin in strange, foreign patterns and symbols. Her armor is gone, and her hair has been shorn to chin-length, wild and curly. There is something familiar about the way it has been cut – as if someone who had cut it once long ago did it again, just to make her angry – but she cannot place it. Her mind is an empty void.

There is only one thing that she recognizes as it echoes in her head.

 _Remember me._

()()()

From a different realm, he watches as she finds herself a place in their city – the city he tore apart not so long ago – and slowly begins to unravel the story he has wound so tightly around her. Every day that she finds a new clue, a new piece of the puzzle, he can't help but feel pride that she knows him so well. Even when she has forgotten everything, she still knows his ways somewhere deep inside her.

 _When all this is done, Sif – when it becomes safe for you to return to Asgard once more – I promise that I will make it up to you. I will try, with all I have, to be the man you once loved._

He has never broken a promise to her in all his life.


End file.
